


Gifts Never Given

by wrothmothking



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrothmothking/pseuds/wrothmothking
Summary: Naruto misses Iruka. He fixes it.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, Umino Iruka & Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68
Collections: Exchange no Jutsu 2020





	Gifts Never Given

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Halfway_Anna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfway_Anna/gifts).



Naruto's excitement for the chunin exams makes Iruka feel a tad guilty for his doubt. Lethal force isn't authorized, and he knows those involved personally, trusts them to do everything possible to protect the genin from each other―it's to be difficult, of course, but no village could survive if its shinobi never come home. He'd seen himself how far Team 7 has come, and yet, the nauseating worry remains, eating at him. Marked improvement does not guarantee readiness. There'll be individuals competing with skills more advanced than Iruka's own, and many more who will be striking to kill despite the rules...

“Eh? Iruka-sensei, you're not eating!”

“Oh! I'm sorry, Naruto. I'm a little distracted.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he's quick to assure, laying a hand on Naruto's shoulder. The boy brightens at the contact, starved for it even now―and why shouldn't he be? Iruka buries the rising guilt for not letting him in sooner; it has no use, besides as motivation for doing better by him.

“It sucks that I don't see you much anymore.”

The words are a song in his heart and a hole in his soul. His face warms as he flushes, pulling Naruto into his side, arm wrapped around.

“I'm sorry for that, too. It's harder with you no longer my student.”

He could hardly afford to take Naruto to Ichiraku's every night, and after he'd accidentally slept over he'd refused to return to Iruka's home and notably not invited him to his own place, fiercely protective of the independence that had been forced on him. Iruka'd taken the snub in stride, recognizing it as part of Naruto's defense mechanism. Had their day schedules not conflicted so much, it wouldn't be an issue.

“You could come around for training and missions if you want!” Naruto offers, then deflates, as though afraid he's overstepped.

Caution is unlike him. The anxiety worsens.

“I would love to,” Naruto cheers, “but I don't think I'd be welcome.”

“What? Why not?”

Ah. Iruka doesn't want to lie, but neither does he want to speak poorly of Naruto's teacher. Nevermind that his general opinion of Kakashi is positive, children often fail to comprehend the layers to an adult's emotions, and his small world has made Naruto a draconian protector of his hoard. And he _likes_ Kakashi. _Iruka_ likes Kakashi, admires him even―a handful of cold words won't change that. Perhaps he's overestimating his worth, but Iruka fears sharing their fight risking Naruto's bond with Kakashi.

“There's some tension between us,” he settles on.

“Tension?”

“I don't know.” It's the truth. “He has this intensity. Whenever I'm around him, I feel hot, and agitated, and hyperaware of my every move. And then he leaves as soon as he can.”

It sounds like nonsense to him. Naruto nods, either pretending to understand or somehow seeing the reason why Iruka would be embarrassed to exist around the jounin. He burns to ask. He doesn't.

“Sensei, have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“A couple,” he answers, befuddled by the change in topic. “Both relationships ended fast. They were civilians thinking they'd get a thrill out of dating a shinobi.” He smiles, sheepish. “I guess I disappointed them.”

“Girls are dumb.”

“I've not had any luck with them.”

Naruto side-eyes him, smirking. There's mischief brewing there, but Iruka says nothing to dissuade him. He never thought he'd miss his pranks.

Feeling strangely calmed, Iruka digs in.

“How about after we finish, I buy you a new set of kunai?”

“Really? Thank you, Iruka-sensei!”

* * *

Iruka stops.

Naruto squeals, scrambling to hide the wrapped package behind him “A-ah, Iruka-sensei, good morning! You're up early.”

“So are you,” Iruka comments mildly, stepping back to allow Naruto in. The boy enters like the house is some horrible dungeon, not the pastel-painted bungalow filled with soft, pillowy furnishings and beloved family antiques it actually is. “I walked you home rather late last night. Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“Um, yes! And then I couldn't find anything for breakfast and Ichiraku's isn't open yet, so...”

It's not a lie, but Iruka remembers what he'd seen: Naruto'd come to leave a present at his doorstep, a present currently hidden in his back pocket. Seeing Iruka was not part of the plan. Whether he was hiding the gift because it was part of a joke he didn't want to be around for Iruka to realize or because he was uncertain of the gift's reception, Iruka chooses to dismiss it. Let Naruto have control.

So, instead of asking after it, he smiles, ruffles Naruto's hair. “Of course. What would you like?”

Shrugging, Naruto leads the way to the kitchen, dragging a hand along the wall like a cat scent-marking. “I don't know. What did you have?”

“Oh, I haven't eaten yet.”

“What! Iruka-sensei, you said breakfast is important! And what's with those clothes?”

Iruka looks down. Bubblegum pink long-sleeved v-neck, forest green cotton trousers, neither sporting any holes or stains that he can find. There's certainly nothing inappropriate about his outfit.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have a secret girlfriend? Is that why you're sneaking out before the sun comes up?”

“No? I was going to the library for research.” Specifically, research into jutsu suiting Naruto he could teach him between the second and third tasks.

Naruto hums, finally relaxing. As Iruka watches, an idea forms behind his blue eyes.

With an excited chitter, he manhandles Iruka into a seat at the table. “I had ramen earlier, so I'll cook!”

Amused, Iruka settles into the chair. Witnessing Naruto's familiarity with his kitchen―the apron's hung in the pantry, the pots and pans share the adjacent cherry-wood cabinet with bowls and plates, the fridge is organized by food type in a habit he'd inherited from his father―warms his heart. He's a cute kid, his favorite garish, orange jumpsuit mellowed by the floral, ice blue apron. Iruka hasn't seen him dressed in anything else for years; he makes a mental note to take him clothes shopping. Perhaps he can use the chunin exams as an excuse―celebration gift or consolation prize, depending on the results.

“You need to go grocery shopping, Sensei.”

“Sorry! It's hard staying on top of everything living alone, y'know?”

“Don't worry! You have me now, so I'm gonna help.”

Well. Better than rejection; it's too early to make unsubtle offers.

In the end, Naruto serves white rice, fried eggs, and miso soup.

“Thank you, Naruto. It's delicious.” And it is. He may've been an unfocused cook, ranting about Kakashi's tardiness and all things Sasuke, but he's proved himself above competent. As he sits across from him, though, the tone changes.

“I complain about Kakashi-sensei a lot, but he's actually really cool.”

Iruka grins. “Yes, he is.”

“He's super strong, and he'll do anything to protect us—I mean, I don't need it-”

“No.”

“And he's funny, and nice! And he never complains about me.”

“He better not.”

“He doesn't! Honest, I like him a whole bunch.”

“I'm glad. It would be miserable if you didn't, seeing him every day.”

“Would you want to see him every day?”

“Hm?” Iruka takes an extra second swallowing, taking the question seriously as he does all Naruto's inquiries. He hardly feels comfortable around Kakashi, but his strength and dedication to his team and village are clear even to those who don't care to look, and Iruka thinks he'd like to discover Kakashi's reported kindness and humor himself. “I wouldn't mind it...Yes.”

Naruto beams.

Washing the dishes together starts as an oddly silent affair, Naruto's attention turned inward. A quick swipe of soap suds on his cheek fixes that. It makes the whole affair last twice as long as it should, but Iruka treasures their laughter.

After, Naruto shadows him as he runs errands, his trip to the library abandoned for another time. It's as they're coming out of a shinobi supply store, their bags loaded with whetstone, ninja wire, and scrolls, that they spot Kakashi, and suddenly it makes sense why Naruto'd argued for this specific shop despite the owner's awful glares—later, without the boy he would say something. Iruka doesn't want to damper his spirits by calling the open hostility into focus on what's becoming a rather good day.

Naruto hollers, waving, and Kakashi makes a beeline for them through the morning crowds.

Clasped in is hand is a box, warped by the strength of his grip. It's blue, remains of a purple ribbon clinging to it, and a perfect match to the present still hiding in Naruto's pocket.

Uncomprehending, Iruka stares. Kakashi closes the distance. Naruto's eyes dart between them, near vibrating with anticipation. What scheme has he hatched?

“Yo, Naruto, Iruka.”

“Hello, Kakashi. What brings you out?”

The jounin stares at him. Iruka blushes.

“Maa, Iruka, I never took you for the shy type.”

Shy? That raises his hackles even as his ears burn-

“It's cute.”

And then he opens the box. Inside rests a wooden dog figurine, a blue scrap of cloth tied around his neck, a flash of silver thread centered in the middle glinting in the sunlight. Iruka knows it—he'd made it for a gift exchange last year, the event abandoned by the untimely deaths of three chunin. He frowns at the memory, and Kakashi's unnatural brightness dims. Unthinking, wanting to comfort, Iruka steps into his personal space, his hand resting gently on the other's.

* * *

He stands before a mirror, staring into his own mismatched gaze. The red of the sharingan grows, spreading 'til there's no white left, and then it gathers in his bottom eyelid, spills over. It's blood. Obito's eye is rejecting him, the horror of it shrapnel in his chest, a swarm of wasps in his brain.

And then the image in the glass changes. Haku smiles at him, pure as the fallen snow. There's a hole in his chest. Kakashi put it there, just like-

Kakashi wakes in his nest of a bed, surrounded by ninken. Pakkun stirs.

“You alright, Boss?”

“Yeah,” he lies.

Then he registers what woke him: a knock on his door. Wariness curls in his gut, yet the hounds slumber on—not a threat, then, at least not one they'd recognize as such. Curiosity comes next: the Hatake estate receives few visitors.

There's a package awaiting him when he opens the door, not a soul in sight. The scent attached to it is familiar. _Naruto_.

Sighing, he opens the box, finding the last thing he was expecting: an honest present. An adorable little dog, the rough grain revealing it to be homemade. Naruto, he knows, has the sewing ability to make the bandana, but he has neither the training nor the equipment for the delicate craftsmanship apparent in the detailing of the dog's face. He checks the card underneath.

_Kakashi,_

_I admire you. I would like to take you out on a date. Please come to Hanako's at noon._

_Iruka_

Well. The handwriting is a perfect match, though it's clear Naruto wasn't sure what to say. Kakashi chuckles as he imagines the boy sat at his desk all night, trying to imagine what his teachers would be like in a romantic context. What torture.

However, the dog does not come from Naruto. Whether it's from Iruka or someone else, Kakashi refuses to speculate. The best way to find out is to follow the directions. Naruto might mock him for falling for his prank, but at least it will be something to do, the Hokage having refused his requests for a mission during these five days away from his students.

And if he likes getting to pretend Iruka's interested in him, it's his own business. Later, he can blame the nightmare, claim it was desperation for something _good_ and _positive_ with another human being that drove him to this flight of fancy. Maybe he'll place himself on Gai's path, let him goad him into another of their competitions.

He passes his morning with the pack, lazily playing fetch from under the blankets. At some point he snacks on some jerky; Guruko snags most of it.

Later, waiting outside Hanako's, Kakashi's surprised to see Iruka, an emotion reflected in the chunin's expression. It's weird seeing him out of uniform. Once he gets past that, though, Kakashi lets himself appreciate the muscular form finally on display. Nice. Beside him, unrepentant, a smirking Naruto bounces on his feet, secure in the protection of Iruka's shadow.

Kakashi joins them, teasing a little. Iruka's reaction to the figurine emboldens him.

But then Iruka frowns, and he _means_ it, and Kakashi fears this was one giant mistake. Adoration of his hounds does not equal adoration of him. What was he thinking, he shouldn't've assumed-

Iruka presses close. The skin of his palm on Kakashi's flesh is warm, calloused, scarred. A weapon itself, seeking now to alleviate his pain.

“ _Hey._ Are you alright?” Iruka questions, voice pitched low. Intimate.

The passers-by look anyway.

“Maa, Iruka, you're going to get wrinkles!”

Just to be annoying, he pokes his cheek. Iruka snorts, smiles, his dimples demanding another poke. Kakashi complies.

“Iruka-sensei! This is for you, from Kakashi-sensei.”

Kakashi's tempted to grab the gift before Iruka can. Judging by what he was given, it's to be an embarrassing unveiling for him.

He's right. Nestled within is a glass dolphin he'd bought on his last mission to Suna, back when their only interaction was pointed squabbling over Kakashi failing yet another round of students. Speaking of, Naruto's left. How he'd managed to breach Kakashi's home without triggering the traps and rifle through his things, Kakashi couldn't guess. Figures the only time he acted a real shinobi was in the name of mischief. Perhaps he should speak to him about approaching battles differently...

Something to ruminate over when he doesn't have the attention of a flushed, teary-eyed Iruka, beatific smile speeding Kakashi's heart.

For what feels the first time, it's Kakashi who blushes. Together, they head inside.

Hanako's is deserted this time of day, affording them privacy. The bartender nods in greeting, tending to a group of shinobi celebrating their return from a successful mission. There's five total, two of them dancing despite the lack of music, too drunk to keep to a discernible rhythm.

Iruka turns on his heel, the movement pulling at his arm. They're still holding hands.

This feels fast. Is this fast? Kakashi would like to know. Does what they're doing count as the date Naruto'd promised, or is this a purely platonic outing? Last he knew, they were fighting. Is this forgiveness? Does _Iruka_ know, or is he simply better at feigning confidence?

Iruka begins humming, and they dance to it. The couple beside them cheers at the company, fails trying to match the tune.

Surrounded by strangers in a place he's been a mere thrice, Kakashi settles into a semblance of the peace of his nest, calmed by the hands on his waist, the unfiltered joy in the air, the infatuation Iruka looks at him with. His hands fall from the edge of Iruka's ribs, where the chunin'd impatiently placed them, to his hips. It feels like trust, holding such a vital, breakable joint in his grasp. More likely, his thinking has been corrupted by the monster he's made himself.

But Iruka reads his reports. Iruka is close to the Hokage, has access to the majority of files on Kakashi, and he's still here.

So, he gathers his courage, and asks, “What are we doing?”

“Hm, not sure.” The smile widens, showing more teeth. “But I'd like to find out, if that's alright with you.”

That sounds nice. Soon, they'll sit at the bar, order food. Talk. See if they're as compatible as they're student seems to think, if the reality of _Iruka and Kakashi_ can be as grand as the idle daydreams they've indulged in.

Kakashi wonders if he'll be allowed to steal a goodnight kiss after a day together.

(He is.)


End file.
